AIRY NIGHTS
An empty elevator opens its doors. “33 please” a well-dressed young lady says, the butler nods. On the way up, through the elevator glass, she sees Tokyo getting smaller and smaller. She comes down on her floor, goes into a classy bar. A local jazz band of five experienced men are playing in the back. The sound makes her feel at home, an open home, since there are no walls, only glass, all around. The embracing, all-encompassing transparency shows the sun hiding behind Mt. Fuji, accentuating the volcano’s curves while it paints a 7:00 pm curtain in the sky. Almost all tables are occupied with drinks, cigars and jazz fans. But she is a music student at the uni, and also a regular there. Always at the bar, pleasantly seating by herself. The bartender already knows what to serve her. They are both shy and don’t talk much, but they know each other well. Through silence they became good friends. Sitting far from the stage, the crowd claps push her into a daydream. The usual dream. She is the sixth member of the band, plays the cello. Another round of claps brings her back. And in that swing of dreaming and living, she spends her nights.
RELIGIOSITY
“Amen” my grandma opens her eyes, and we are both standing in front of him, or it? A statue of the Holy Father. She truly thinks he’s there hanging on the wall of her homemade sanctuary surrounded by different sized figures of graceful and delicate saints, an internationally sourced collection of virgin Maria, and for safety, over a dozen electric candles. But it’s Jesus crucified that makes me tremble. “He’s so beautiful” she said. I know beauty. I can find beauty in random things, but I can’t find it in Him. The open wounds, the painted blood, all too cruel to uplift my soul. I also don’t feel consoled. Perhaps it’s a bit too unfair to ask for miracles to that poor man. Still my grandma chats for hours with him, on prayers she asks for the wellbeing of all of us, and all of you. Her devoted heart doesn’t doubt that he listens. I admire her faith and capacity to love the uncertain. Today Jesus’s statue might be an unpleasant figure to look at, but in my grandma’s forever absence, it might also be one of those things I would like to keep. Then, within my memories, I might find beauty in it.
EVERYTHING IN A HUG
After the pandemic of 2020, the government banned hugs. Frances, a middle school teacher, was the last human alive who had experienced being hugged. She was the last surviving witness of society’s before and after transformation. The mortality rate had increased by 80%. The global life expectancy was down to 38 years. In the case of babies, it was even worse. Only one out of ten survived.
Humanity was redefined, and systems as well. Including sex. A lot of new tech and gadgets were employed to sustain and imitate an intimate life without touching each other, only connecting what was necessary. People were patrolled closely by a military agency specialized on monitoring hugging. They had killed entire families for violating the three feet distance.
A movie from the early twenties was leaked on the internet. The film, a successful blockbuster of its time, showed chimpanzees hugging and displaying affection. People were shocked by this, a lot of them grew curious.
Anabel, Santiago and Yuki, who were in Frances’s class, knew she had lived before the ban. They discretely approached her, wanting to learn the mysteries of hugging and skin contact. Frances knew it would be a huge risk. Regardless, she decided to teach them about human touch. She helped them to regain the sensibility on their skin, to be aware, and proud of it. They promised to share her teachings with others. Frances poured all her knowledge to them, until age came for her. They hugged her one last time. Frances died peacefully, embraced by hope.
YELLOW CAB
“Taxi!!!” With her right arm extended into the air, as graceful as only a ballerina could, Cassandra shouted to the yellow cab approaching. After coming out from her lawyer’s office, she started to feel lighter and unconcerned again. Her voice was vibrant. Her soul was returning to her body. She was breathing with an easiness she had not felt in years. Her lawyer had explained her the process. She felt supported and more certain than ever. She had to have the conversation with her husband next.
Baki had started his shift about an hour ago. For him, morning traffic was never worth the money. 10:45 am was the perfect time to start riding the taxi. That also gave him the chance to have a nice breakfast with his wife and have a call with his family over in Pakistan.
That morning, Baki had just dropped a passenger when he saw Cassandra hailing for a ride on the next block. Being a long-time driver, Baki quickly cut across the traffic, engaging in that informal race that all taxis around the world run to win a passenger.
Casandra jumped into the back seat: “84th and 4th please.” “Yes ma’am” Baki replied, turning around, while starting the meter.
Cassandra immediately noticed the calming aroma of sandalwood in the cab. With her eyes closed, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scent. The conversation can wait, Cassandra thought. Instinctively she asked Baki to change directions “Sorry, I need to change the address, take me to West 18th and 9th please.” “Okay ma’am” Baki in serene tone replied and turned around.
She lowered her window a little bit, just enough that she could feel the fresh air without messing her hair. The protective division between the front and back seats made her feel that she had her own personal space. There, she reclined and stretched her arms across the creased leather seat. Cassandra tended to be an indecisive person, who had trouble taking any type of big decision, but this time, deep in the center of her chest, it felt right.
No, I shouldn’t go to my mother’s yet, she will not take it well, Cassandra thought. She was trying to remain in that sweet inner spot and hold on for a bit longer on that easiness she was feeling. Her therapist seemed to be a better option. Reading Baki’s license she said “Baki, right?” “Yes, I am Baki.” “I’m sorry Baki, I’m confused about the address where I am supposed to go, I think it’s actually 26th and 1st” Casandra said with a hint of embarrassment. Baki politely nodded and turned the next corner, heading to the East. He was trying to remember the last time someone had changed directions that many times. He remembered the lanky Irishman who had just landed in the city for first time. That was before Google Maps, and poor man, the ride ended up being a hundred and fifty something dollars. However, Baki, an immigrant himself, felt so bad he gave the Irishman a significant discount.
Cassandra started to suspect that going to her therapist was not a good idea either. She will somehow overanalyze my decision and undermine my resolve, Cassandra thought while the car was waiting at a red light.
“Baki, you know, the truth is that I’m not sure where to go, but I want to just go, to keep going. You have a lovely cab which I find very comfortable, would you please just drive me around?”
“But where ma’am?”
“Anywhere around the city! Perhaps think of it as if you were giving a city tour to someone… I’ll tell you when I figure where exactly I want to go.”
“Okay, I will just try to avoid traffic until then.”
It was the perfect day to do such thing. The day was warm but not hot, just pleasing on the skin. Baki was fine with driving around. A nice way of making a few bucks. His sober demeanor made Cassandra notice the uninterrupted peace in Baki’s accepting disposition.
“Baki, how long have you been driving?”
“A long time... Almost twenty years.”
“Oh, wow! I haven’t committed to anything for that long, not even dancing.”
“Do you dance?”
“I used to… for seventeen years. I was a valet dancer until I got married.”
Flashes of memories came to her mind, brightening even more the happiness she was feeling. Cassandra used to be able to spin like no other dancer of her age. She used to be a dancer for New York Ballet. They toured around the world, big cities, fancy venues. That’s how she met her husband, one day after a presentation in Moscow… I can have the conversation later, she reaffirmed the idea to herself again.
“Do you have kids?” Baki felt permission to ask.
“No, I don’t, maybe later.”
“I don’t have kids either, I married too old” Baki shared with her.
Cassandra got quiet for a moment; she was mesmerized with the scene of the skyline perfectly framed by the left window. She felt the energy of the city reaching her, reassuring her decision. Passively, Cassandra had been listening to Baki’s playlist. A soothing album of Arabic music. It sounded like mantras and meditation. “Habibi… Ha-bibi”. It sounded like a sincere lament. Despite not understanding anything, she heard the sound of compassion, and she used it for herself, for not being able to rationally explain to her husband that she no longer wanted to be married to him. “Habibi… Ha-bibi” She felt a mute sadness.
Baki noticed Cassandra was lost in thought, so he cleared his throat before talking. “Hem… Sorry ma’am… It’s almost 3:00 pm, Salat time, would you mind if I stop for few minutes to do my prayers?”
“Three pm, already? Of course” Cassandra replied.
Baki parked on a quiet side street with very little traffic. “Ma’am, you can stay here in the car… Sorry, I won’t take long.”
“No worries, I’ll wait here, I’m enjoying the music.”
Baki stepped out of the car. He was taller than what Cassandra imagined. He opened the trunk and took out a small torques carpet with an intricate Persian design. Looking at the sun, Baki placed the carpet on the ground and sat on his knees with his forehead on the ground.
Cassandra, from inside the cab, observed and admired his devotion. She wandered if praying was what kept him at peace.
A few minutes later he stood up, mumbled something, and returned to the cab. “Thank you for being so patient”, “No problem” she said nodding and closing her eyes for half a second.
“So let’s continue with the tour!” Baki started the engine. He drove for another hour before they had covered the entire city. This city never gets old, she thought. Cassandra was still happy, basking in her little bubble: the back seat of Baki’s yellow cab. She didn’t mind the meter, nor did she mind the time. She didn’t want to let go of riding; however, for a brief moment, she considered going back home, but the adverse reaction of her body was too evident and strong. She could feel the freshness of a new start, a beginning, and she wanted to focus on that. That much she knew.
“Baki, I know where I should go now, can you take me to IKEA please? I need new furniture.”